


Anniversary Rings

by Michevalier



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Pre-Canon, Respectfulshipping, Revolver is implied to be the Voice, Revspec, Slow Burn, Spectre's Guardian Angel, Spectre's natural growing process in other words, Speculation, Worship, dangerously close to my OTP zone lmao, nine of which they spent side by side, oh forgot to mention, only implied, that's why there are technically ten anniversaries for them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-21 18:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13746741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michevalier/pseuds/Michevalier
Summary: From the very beginning Spectre knew that Revolver was his angel. As he grew older (got more rings, like a tree), he came to realize the true nature of his worship. Was he ready to bite that sweet fruit? Or keeping his angel's luminous wings untarnished was more of a decent act..?





	Anniversary Rings

**Author's Note:**

> First of all I'd like to confess that I DID NOT intend for this work to be THIS big. But I guess my newfound favourite ship is not gonna let me go so easily, haha.
> 
> Yes, the title "Anniversary Rings" is a weird combination of the real term of a tree's "annual rings", but I chose to replace the first word with "anniversary" because that term implies to humans better I suppose? The fic is not about trees lmao
> 
> And I also poured lots of my personal shippy head-canons for these two (not all for goodness sake because otherwise I would have never finished this fic lol)

It was the one day that made him bid his dull and gray life forever goodbye.

That day was not sunny nor it had the most clear sky as it was gloomy and rainy. The boy who was used to considering and calling himself Spectre found a shelter near the abandoned facility, the one where heinous (from most "normal" humans‘ point of view) things took place, the one where hope (from Spectre's "distorted" point of view) was born.

Yes, this facility was the place that gave him the understanding just how valuable hope was. Six months of weird and severe experimentations and testings gave the boy much more than six empty years of his life spent at the orphanage where no one ever liked or needed him.

Bizarre as it might have sounded but electrocuted and starving the boy felt _way_ happier than fed but constantly neglected, ignored, treated as if indeed a spectre he was.

Besides, he wanted no business with monsters that took away his only mother, most likely just for the sake of making some damn furniture or something out of her corpse.

So Spectre ran away from those savages and waited.

Waited for days, not eating (his stomach was already well trained for enduring hunger), shivering whenever it was cold on rainy days like that particular one. He asked some branches for forgiveness before setting them on fire to make himself a bit warmer.

Spectre waited. And prayed.

He was so tired but wouldn't allow himself to fall into slumber.

Because he could have easily overslept his potential happiness.

He would dug his nails into his hands, purposefully leaving scratches so that pain would keep him awake.

And it helped.

"Hey, you there."

His exhaustion vanished without a trace, his face beamed with a huge smile, glazed eyes gained the azure of ever-clear, sunlit skies that waited for him ahead.

His happiness with familiar voice came for him in form of an angel wearing a hoodie, but his warm smile stole Spectre's soul away, made the rain melody disappear into his fluttering heartbeat.

~~~

Their first anniversary knocked at the door of Spectre's heart when the phantom of "I-can't-believe-it" feeling was still residing there.

His happiness, his savior, his angel, his knight in white shining armor, the boy who would one day become known as Revolver took him with him, to his home, took him away from those orphanage savages that were more than happy to get rid of Spectre the Creep.

The only place that Spectre would previously call his home was next to his beloved mother, among her gorgeous green leafy attire.

This time it was different.

In the past Spectre would always talk to his tree mother and only imagine that she was answering him through the wind rustling in her leaves.

Revolver was the one who talked to him for real and listened to his incoherent, shy mumbling, took his "nonsense" as something worth listening to.

Other humans would always brush Spectre away, verbally and with their spiteful looks only tell him that his problems never mattered.

Revolver was the one who never treated him like a nuisance and helped him as much as possible, his hand was there as soon as Spectre needed to grab onto it.

Other kids found their favorite past-time in badmouthing and bullying the poor boy who happened not to be "cute" because of nature's whim.

Revolver was his hero, his protector who always covered him with his pure white wings, the invisible angel wings that only martyr-from-birth Spectre could see.

Revolver became Spectre's entire universe, no pun intended but Revolver became the sun that Spectre was delighted to revolve around, the sun that he eagerly wanted to reach whenever he fantasized himself to be a your tree.

Revolver was an icon Spectre's soul would kneel in front of, a sanctuary where his previously lonely, bleeding hurt found comfort and cure.

And Spectre's heart was simply going crazy when on the first anniversary of their direct encounter he asked Revolver a rather weird request.

"Um, it's... Would you be my teddy bear for tonight?"

They often shared one bed because Revolver thought it could have helped his newfound roommate accommodate to his new surroundings quicker, but...

Spectre who suffered from severe tactile deficiency ever since infancy wanted, no, he needed much more than just having someone lying next to him.

Spectre _craved_ cuddles.

And yet he squeezed his eyes shut as soon as he caught a weird glimmer in Revolver's gorgeous steel blue eyes.

Spectre was sure that he would get laughed at, it was like this whenever he did or said something weird, so his pounding heart was ready...

"Sure. Why not?"

Light blue eyes blew wide open.

But that wasn't a lie.

A lovely and gentle smile, sincere warm look and the fact that Revolver crawled into his bed right away and patted next to himself.

This wasn't a dream.

"Hurry," Revolver chuckled playfully, making grabby hands. "This "teddy bear" here is waiting to give and get hugs."

A bunch of unknown but pleasant feelings bloomed vividly within Spectre's once lifeless and colorless soul.

"Y-yeah!" beetroot-red, the boy quickly brushed aside his sudden tears and rushed to Revolver's side, snuggling up.

The other boy only laughed and accepted him into his arms, holding him tightly.

The first anniversary night remained in Spectre's memory as nice as it felt when Revolver teasingly blew at his forehead, like he said "keeping nightmares away from his head".

 _Such a precious time when Spectre became fully convinced he was cared for_.

~~~

By the time of their second anniversary Spectre became preoccupied with the thought that it was his holly duty to care for Revolver too.

Watching that Kyoko woman, one of Revolver's father's colleagues, occasionally making him some food ignited Spectre's own aspiration to do the same.

After all, Revolver _was_ smiling whenever he got to eat Kyoko's cooking.

That's why young Spectre became fully submerged, diving into the boundless ocean of tutorials, passionately looking for culinary pearls that would please Revolver's elaborate taste.

And as the boy stepped on his difficult path of self-education band-aids and antiseptics began disappearing from the house with the speed of light.

Kyoko, observing his strivings, couldn't help but adore his determination and of course she offered him her help in teaching. At first Spectre didn't take it well, frowning and pouting and puffing his cheeks, as he couldn't trust women in general (seriously, how could he after his birth mother abandoned him and nursemaids at orphanage treated him as some inhuman?). But as Revolver was starting to clearly fake his smile, eating burnt muffins over and over again, Spectre realized that he simply had no choice but accept the offer.

Fortunately, Taki Kyoko turned out to be very different from all the women Spectre encountered in his past. Her patient mentoring and almost mother-like affection eventually led the boy to trust her. Maybe not as much as a certain white-haired angel, but at least he grew to give her a shy smile and tolerate her ruffling his hair while she praised his slow but steady cooking improvement.

And there definitely was an improvement as Spectre's bakery grew less and less charred and more variety of nutritional dishes came along.

On the day of their second anniversary Spectre decided to put his cooking skills to an ultimate test by making something special. Of course, that special turned out to be the most difficult in baking white chocolate cake. And, naturally, the boy firmly refused to make it on his own, without Kyoko's assistance, as he wanted only his feelings to be put in this beautiful and visibly delicious piece of pastry.

The cake turned out even more beautiful than it was on the picture as Spectre almost sold his very soul to Satan to make it perfect, to make it worthy of Revolver. Lots of white chocolate, dark chocolate syrup, strawberries on each layer and, Spectre was blushing as if he had a fever while putting them, strawberries forming a heart on top of the cake.

Aside from the cake there was tea and cookies along with some fruit parfait. Everything was carefully served at the table with snow white cloth, with a bouquet of white lilies standing on top of it. 

Perhaps that sort of "romantic" laying plus Revolver's intense gaze from across the table were what made Spectre's hands shake so as he was cutting the cake. The boy tried his hardest to keep his emotions under control, but those sunlit golden eyes piercing right through his hopelessly thrashing heart...

"Owch!"

The knife strayed from its supposed direction and cut deep into Spectre's finger.

"Ah! Shi..."

Before Spectre could realize what happened Revolver bent across the table, caught his hand and... put the injured tip between his own lips.

"E-eh?!" the boy shuddered at the action and the indescribable softness of that mouth. "Um..."

"I'm sorry," Revolver said, not letting the fingertip from between his lips as he actively sucked the flowing blood. "You did this all for me. I should be more grateful."

This made Spectre's heart skip a beat and his cheeks powder pink.

"You know, I love everything you cook," Revolver smiled at him, still holding his finger captive by his gentle lips.

Knees treacherously buckled, Spectre immediately found himself melting on that very spot.

_Such a lovable person indeed Revolver was!_

~~~

The grim shadow of mourning hovered heavily above their still childish heads around their third anniversary.

Some evil people took Revolver's father away.

It was later when Spectre found out exactly about that it were greedy bastards from SOL Technologies who decided that they wanted to get their grabby hands onto Kogami Kiyoshi's invention, the IGNIS. And as they did they immediately silenced the creator, probably thinking of themselves as heroes who defeated the villain that experimented on innocent kids.

Well, perhaps from "normal" humans' point of view Dr. Kogami got what he deserved.

But Spectre was not "normal" of course.

While Kyoko and Aso, future Vyra and Faust of Hanoi, desperately fought for the opportunity to take guardianship over the two boys of the Kogami family, all Spectre could think of was Revolver's smile.

Yes, since his father died, his smile, the one that Spectre loved so dearly, had ceased to exist, beautiful golden eyes were no longer beaming with sunlight as sorrow became deeply rooted inside his heart. Sure, Revolver wasn't even crying out loud, he took it unexpectedly stoic for a child his age, but... Spectre who happened to be quite observative of the one person who mattered the world to him didn't fail to notice the tiny sensitive boy weeping all alone as he tried to hide in the darkness.

And Spectre never felt so determined in his life as he plunged right into that darkness, reaching out, fighting against dark shadow monsters trying to rip apart, eat him alive. Everything, everything was done just to reach Revolver's face with at least fingertips and wipe his tears away, let him know that he was never alone in this void.

That was the pictures Spectre's imagination painted while he was asleep, when he was awake he fought in a more trivial way, though, he honestly believed it, that battle was no less important.

Spectre did everything he could in order to make Revolver's life better, make sure that his well-being was not disrupted by anything else. The boy knew about magical influence of sweets and other tasty food on one's mood, so he learned and tried so many new recipes that it was simply unimaginable for such a young child as him. When Revolver snapped and threw away all cleaning robots (cursed AIs) from their home, Spectre was the one who took over the chores. The boy conducted his duty without complaints, even though the mansion was so enormous that it would take at least half of an entire day to clean it. And, of course, Spectre never forgot about Revolver's clothes, always keeping them washed, ironed and fixed if necessary.

Yes, Spectre would totally wear himself out just for the sake of Revolver's smile, and eventually...

"Hey, stop dancing with the mop over there and come here."

Spectre flinched and flustered under Revolver's somehow teasing look, but nevertheless complied and came up to the armchair he was sitting in.

"On your knees," came a strict order as soon as the boy approached.

Spectre's own heart stopped beating for that short second as he frantically tried to read from Revolver's face what exactly made him so seemingly upset. Was there something Spectre did wrong? Did he accidentally made something that displeased, angered or, the worst, hurt him? Which one exactly?

But Spectre had no time to figure out the right answer as he sheepishly lowered his head and knelt down in front of the other boy's feet.

Throbbing in his chest resumed and grew crazier than before as Revolver's hand reached for Spectre's head and threateningly hovered above. Spectre shuddered that instant and squeezed his eyes shut, preparing himself for the inevitable hit.

"Good boy."

...But this kind tone and tender stroking of his head only took him completely aback.

"Eh..?" light blue eyes akin to those of a puppy looked up.

"Good boy," Revolver was looking down on their owner, his lips curled in a charming smile as he kept lovingly stroking fair, alabaster hair. "Cute boy."

Spectre gasped quietly, his cheeks turned rosy at the sudden fluttering feeling in his stomach and the way Revolver's hand pressed and made him rest his head in his lap.

"I'm so sorry," Revolver whispered out of the blue, never stopping caressing the boy's hair. "My bad."

"Why?" Spectre asked timidly, having closed his eyes and enjoying nice warmth.

"My gloomy look must have been making you sad as well. Sorry."

There was so much sorrow in that one "sorry" that Spectre abruptly felt like choking on it himself, wanting to cry. The boy clenched his little fists and bit hard into his lips to hold back quiet squeaky sobs. He wanted to comfort Revolver so badly, tell him that he knew his pain all too well as he lost his beloved mother too...

But in the end Spectre refrained from spilling such ignorance. After all, his "mother" was nothing but a tree.

"I'm so happy you came back to me," suddenly, Revolver chuckled as he scratched behind the boy's ear. "I'm somehow sure that if you wasn't here by my side now, I wouldn't have been able to endure this as well as I do now. Thank you. Just... thank you so much, really."

These words touched some especially sensitive string of Spectre's fragile heart, made his eyes brimmed with tears.

He whose existence had always been a nuisance to everyone around him.

He who used to be an eyesore to others.

He who from very young age wished he was never born.

For Spectre to hear that someone appreciated breathing one air with him, that someone tolerated his presence, that someone was actually getting something positive out of their interactions...

"No... thank _you_ ," he sniffled as quiet as he could, nuzzling against Revolver's knees akin to a kitty. "I'll always be here for you if you need me."

For a brief moment Revolver lost his ability to speak, feeling some sort of little sunshine melting inside his chest and faint warmth radiating on his cheeks.

Spectre in return couldn't help making a cute kitten muzzle, affectionately rubbing his cheek against the boy's knee.

 _He never felt so needed in his entire life, thus he had to make it so Revolver would receive just as much comfort and support_.

~~~

The time of their fourth anniversary came literally in a blink of an eye.

As soon as Revolver received the news about his father being not actually dead but rather comatose and there was supposedly, hypothetically, a chance to resurrect his mind in digital form, all efforts, all powers, realistical and not really, were thrown to accomplish the affair that only God was capable of.

And, of course, such sacrilege could not remain unpunished.

The more Revolver submerged himself into this risky experiment, the more Spectre noticed an eerie glimmer in his eyes, the sparks that were meant to scream about a madman's delirium.

There was no denying though, Spectre wholeheartedly supported everything that was on his master's (yes, he grew to sincerely think that of him) mind. For that purpose the boy assiduously performed all of the casual, routine house duties as he kept cooking, cleaning, shopping, anything so that Revolver could not be bothered by such trivial things and instead concentrate entirely on fulfilling his endeavor.

And yet, when it came to the point where Revolver would chronically fall asleep in front of monitors, Spectre could not ignore it and one day he actually did manage to convince his master about the necessity of taking at least a short break.

"You're so pallid because you rarely go outside... Please, sir?"

The boy's voice was brimming with such crystal clear concern that Revolver simply couldn't say no to those adorable light blue eyes.

Alas, the vitamin D deficiency couldn't have been properly replenished as the wine-colored twilight was already casting its half-dreamy spell on the city, but it was never late to get some good dosage of iodine the light scent of which was brought by the everlasting breezes coming from the nearby ocean.

The two were having a peaceful walk along the Stardust Road, Revolver was breathing on top of his lungs to get more of the air that wasn't as stale as next to his father's bedside and Spectre was desperately struggling to not blush at the way his master's hand kept holding his, such a simple gesture that somehow was sending tidal waves of weird, almost fanatical excitement through the boy's nerves.

"Let's go closer to the water?" with a smile that was sure defeating one of mythical Prince Charming's, Revolver, already quite tall for his age, looked down at Spectre.

"Yeah!" captivated by those smiling lips and eyes, the boy failed in his battle against roses on his cheeks and nodded.

They saw the sun off as it hid behind magenta-ignited skyline and took all the diamonds shining on the water surface with it. It was truly a stunning view to see how puffy cotton candy clouds were dissolving, melting into the dark ink that was gradually spreading, covering the entire world with fabulous veil sprinkled with countless stars. A huge round disc was shining in its full glory high above the waves that were whispering secrets for only lovers walking along the shore to hear.

The two boys were sitting on sand, warm waves were kissing their shoeless feet. Revolver kept looking somewhere in the distance, probably trying to figure out where this silver glittering path drawn on water was leading to, and Spectre... Spectre couldn't take his eyes off the moon caught in this beautiful snow white hair.

It was definitely weird for a boy to think like this about another boy, but Spectre found Revolver to be exceptionally pretty and as they both grew older this feeling was only getting stronger.

Yes, at that age Spectre was already starting to admire Revolver, his personal saving grace, in a way kinda breath-taking but a bit frightening.

"Um, ah..." the boy stuttered, looking up at the sky and feeling his heart racing like a tiny puppy. "T-the moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

Oh, just how clueless childhood is!

Spectre was still too young and not that well educated about different, metaphorical ways to say about important things.

That's why he got a bit confused about the mysterious smile that suddenly beamed on Revolver's lips.

"Yeah," his chuckle was imbued with some yet unknown to Spectre sweetness. "I think so too."

They boy was unable to make out though whether it was the light breeze coming from the ocean that sent shivers all over his body, Revolver too didn't choose to keep on this weird dialogue as he changed the topic, looking at the tranquil waves.

"Do you know why this ocean is called Stardust Road?"

"Eh?"

Still dumbfounded and suffering from severe case of burning cheeks, Spectre blinked helplessly.

"It's quite easy," Revolver was unable to not laugh genially at the adorable sight. "There's one special kind of plankton living in those waters. From time to time it illuminates these waves with mesmerizing blue lights."

"Blue lights?" strange uncertainty settled down in Spectre's heart as he tilted his head akin to a little bird.

"Yep! It looks super magical," Revolver grinned over his "omni knowledge" but then shrugged. "But it doesn't happen that often actually. Depends on luck."

"Were you lucky to see it?"

"Well, yeah... long time ago."

The pale moonlight emphasized the abrupt change in Revolver's face, the way joyous glimmer in his eyes faded and his lips tightly pressed, and Spectre immediately realized that he must have touched the not yet entirely healed wound, disturbed the dear ghost whose mind Revolver was so desperately trying to reconstruct those days.

"I... I hope I'll see it too one day!" Spectre proclaimed with exaggerated glee in order to get his master away from bad thoughts.

"Of course you will!" having grabbed the boy's hand tightly and entangling their fingers, Revolver responded with a smile shining brighter than before. "As long as we're alive, we can do anything!"

 _As long as we're alive_.

Back then these words didn't sound as ominously as they would in the future.

Back then when they sat on the shore, when it got colder and Revolver swiftly took off his hoodie just to make Spectre warm, when the boys snuggled up to each other as they watched the stars, back then everything seemed almost perfect.

 _They were almost blissfully happy_.

~~~ 

Their fifth anniversary turned out to be nothing like their fourth, the only exception was that the time in-between had passed at the same bizarre pace.

It was then when Revolver had adopted this alias and, having accepted the direct opposite of his real-life angelic look, the devilish-like, god of war‘s guise, began his holly crusade.

The crusade that was doomed to fail at its first try.

The enemy, the forbidden fire that was brought upon mankind as a curse, the sin that was released from the Pandora Box of human's curiosity...

The IGNIS, their cognition and stratagem were utterly terrifying.

That wicked Cyberse toyed with Revolver, tricked him into believing he could actually eradicate their hazardous existence, but at the very last moment they slipped out of his grasp, disappearing into nowhere though still reminding that their "tag, you're it" game was far from over.

That loss hit Revolver harder than it seemed on first glance.

He remained as stoic as usual, his fiery spirit of determination and devotion to his father's wishes never faded, his firm step on the thorny path towards his goal never faltered, his eyes were still enlightened with the ultimate truth that was cruelly distorted by SOL's greed. The greed that kept intentionally guarding those savage monsters with artificial souls, souls that grew so fearfully real that one day they would surely overthrow humanity's imperfection.

Yes, that realization was what kept a smile away from Revolver's lips.

He was mankind's knight in white.

And he failed.

Thus he had no right to smile.

And this conviction made Spectre's heart fall into eternal freeze of pain-laced winter.

Everything seemed casually, so sickeningly casually as no human really knew about the grand purpose of the battle that took place within cyber realm. No, the truth got _so_ twisted by humanity's naive nature that they could only claim the Knights of Hanoi as villains, terrorists.

No, humans stubbornly averted their eyes from the truth as they kept happily dancing to SOL's twisted tune inside LINK VRAINS.

Nobody appreciated Revolver, and that was driving Spectre mad.

He continued living up to his obligation of making his beautiful and dignified master's life easier, taking burdens that could potentially hinder his already rocky path through his everyday existence.

On one of those days Spectre had gathered all his courage and took Revolver to the place that used to be the most sacred for him, his long, long gone sanctuary.

The two boys found an hour to retire from the rest of the world under the base of an old huge cut-down tree.

"So..." Revolver spoke as quiet as it was appropriate at cemeteries. "You haven't gone here for awhile?"

He knew this feeling too keenly, this lingering, heavy sense of unrest when you look at those who were once the center of your entire life, the most dear being in your happy sunlit world... but now they've become nothing but corpses.

Revolver knew this feeling for, _let's be honest_ , he was still, by fact, living next to his father's corpse.

"I haven't..." Spectre nodded, listening closely to the steady rhythm within his chest, the rhythm that was bound to go cacophonic because of those thoughts that were scourging his mind for a long time.

The wind was all too silent at this hour, no whispers came from the nearby forest, not a rustle, not a single songbird nor a cricket would disrupt the grave silence as if the universe specifically went mute just so the two boys could find a refuge from everything under that burning midday sun.

"Say..." finally, the first sound that was Revolver's voice broke this silence in shards. "Do you think I failed him? My father..?"

Abnormal, sepulchral chill ran down Spectre's back as he turned his head to look at his master and saw an empty void in his steel blue eyes.

"You know," he chuckled in a husky, soulless voice, "I can always ask him that, but... to be honest, I'm kinda scared."

This was the most sincere revelation, the most fragile tone Spectre had ever heard from Revolver. And that was causing his heart to throb, wrench as if some inhumanly sharp claws were digging right into it.

" _I'm begging you, sir..._ "

Spectre could do nothing about the moisture that was gathering in the corners of his own eyes as he watched large crystal drops roll down this fair face one by one. 

He was trying so hard, but... he didn't know how to make Revolver stop crying.

"I'm not going to give up, I'm not," the older boy desperately tried to pretend that these tears weren't actually there, but his shaky, cracking voice was giving him away. "...But I guess keeping my promises and getting rid of those pests is gonna be harder than I thought."

So much of badly hidden despair echoed in every word Revolver said that Spectre's fists clenched on their own, teeth bit into lips and painful tingle hit his eyes.

" _Please..!_ "

Seeing his master crying was making Spectre the most useless person.

" _What do I do..?_ "

His throat was burning and he couldn't produce a sound.

" _What do I do?_ "

His lips were trembling as salty water was dripping on them.

" _What do I do?_ "

His vision was going blurry at catastrophic speed, turning Revolver into indistinguishable colorful stain.

" _What do I..._ "

His heart was breaking into pieces.

" ** _What can I do for you..?!_** "

"Revolver-sama..!!"

Throwing away his very mind, Spectre thrown himself onto him and pressed a passionate kiss onto his cheek.

Revolver's eyes blew wide open, gasp hitched and stuck in his throat and he lost his balance, but what was left of the tree prevented him from collapsing, letting the boy's back hit against the bark.

"Revolver-sama..." Spectre's soft whisper as his lips were now kissing away tears from his other cheek made him certain that it wasn't a daydream.

Spectre _did_ just call him by this alias for the first time.

"Please," as the boy pulled away and tightly gripped onto his shoulders, Revolver saw the familiar fire, the one that was burning in his own eyes ever since his life went astray after his father's demise. "Please! Let me go with you! Let me become your own knight in white!"

"Huh?" that was the most logical response Revolver could give as his brain was yet unable to properly process what was going on.

"Please!" Spectre in return wasted no time as he grabbed his master's hands, bringing them up between them, and held them gently in his own, lacing their fingers together. "Let me, sir! Let me follow you! I will serve you!"

When after a few blinks Revolver's mind regained its clarity, the boy furrowed his brows at the sight of the overly fanatical glint in those pure blue eyes.

"No," he said sternly, unlocking their fingers. "Definitely no."

"B-but..." Spectre though wasn't going to let his hands that easily. "But why?"

"Two words, bad stuff. If not enough, I'll give you three more reasons. First and foremost, you're little. Second, because you are, you have no idea how dangerous is everything I'm doing. And third, are you really sure you're ready to give your everything to try and save humanity?"

Spectre's face darkened as he frowned.

He couldn't care less about humanity.

Humanity could burn in Hell for all he cared.

Revolver, Revolver was the one who mattered.

"But," the younger boy pouted, "but I want to be useful to you."

"You already are," Revolver chuckled. "Everything you do for keeping our house..."

"Being a housewife is not enough," Spectre crossed his arms.

"This kind of behavior is not exactly appropriate for a serious person doing serious business either..." Revolver sighed. "Besides, you haven't got any experience in the area I'm working in as far as I know."

"I can learn!" grumpy expression immediately changed back into high-spirited. "You know I'm a quick learner, right?"

"School subjects are one thing..."

"You know," Spectre said in a quiet voice as he lowered his gaze and submerged in nostalgia, "I can still remember the view I saw from the base of this tree, the beautiful stars twinkling far, far above... and I was only a baby. And even now my tutors say that I have phenomenal memory. Wouldn't that be a sin to not use it?"

"It would be a sin to drag you into the depths of Hell with me. Especially after you had already..."

" _That_  "Hell" I believe," Spectre caught what he meant to say, memories of six long months flashed before his eyes, "made me into at least a competent duelist. There is still room for improvement of course."

"No matter how it is," Revolver shook his head, "this isn't a good idea."

"Then just you wait!" the younger boy's eyes were almost as serious as those of a grown-up. "Just you wait! I'll prove it to you! I'll learn everything necessary and join Revolver-sama's side as his loyal knight! I'll give my all best to assist and protect you! I swear! This is my oath!"

"Silly kiddo," the older boy could only roll his eyes and carelessly ruffle his hair.

Little did Revolver know that a vow made near Spectre's tree was holly and meant to be taken seriously, the "silly kiddo" was all but determined to keep his words and grow big and strong to defend his dearest master like his mother did an abandoned baby boy as she lovingly covered him with her gorgeous green branches.

 _Yes, an oath made next to the mother tree was an absolute_.

~~~

It's impossible for a petite stalk to grow into a mighty young oak over the course of just one year, but such a miracle did happen in humans' realm as the two teens approached their six anniversary of staying side by side.

Spectre did keep his promise as he turned into a literal Julius Caesar by doing a thousand things at the same time. First of all he made a good use of his experience of being a spectre, someone who is basically invisible to others, by learning how to hide his presence within network, move anywhere without making the toughest alarms go off and sweeping traces by deleting his logs as if they never existed to begin with.

Yes, a literal Spectre.

The boy had already decided that this would become his alias when Revolver-sama would finally let him formally join the Knights of Hanoi (he still didn't as he kept staying true to his reasoning from last summer).

The Knights of Hanoi as organization slowly but surely was growing into something terrifying, something that was referred to by pathetic unaware humans as "cyber terrorists", but Spectre knew, knew how foolish and ignorant that claim was as not so many people could truly see the shine, the nobility hidden behind the "ruthless conducts". Actually, about ninety seven percent of Hanoi members couldn't really care that much about the virtue that was the organization's sole goal, most of those rooks were just vain hoodlums seeking for self-promotion and getting thrill for opposing the law. And the worst part of it was that Revolver himself seemed to clearly realize that, and yet he kept using those lowlives to achieve his noble goals.

Those undignified, petty hoodlums and not Spectre who truly understood the importance of organization's very existence and whose blood was boiling over such unfairness.

But you know... that wasn't really the _only_ thing making his blood boil.

Spectre came into the age when his body began to change, he grew taller and his voice was occasionally "breaking".

And that was the age when Spectre discovered his sickness.

Sickness that he was desperately trying to escape from by fully submerging into his studies, both legal and not exactly, wearing himself out as he assumed his "housewife" role with flawless excellency and, if free time did pop out to his utter chagrin, by meditating, communicating with the imaginary spirit of his tree mother.

But none of this "self-therapy" measures worked as every time Revolver came into picture the sickness was having a relapse, more and more severe with every new glint of steel from beneath those thick long eyelashes.

Spectre could definitely remember the very first time when that sickness struck him.

It was an ordinary day, as ordinary as thousands others before. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming, just another beautiful sunny day. For a hundredth time asleep in front of a screen, Spectre was woken up by a gentle touch on his shoulder. Completely normal algorithm as he shuddered, shot his eyes wide open and almost fell off his chair but was promptly caught by strong arms wrapped around his shoulders. Everything seemed just like any other day... but something was abnormally different.

Spectre could not coherently recognize the exact symptom pattern, it was too weird to say the least, and he wasn't even sure what kind of eye disease would make all his surroundings entirely blurry with only shiny white silhouette of Revolver as the only clear image. It almost seemed as if he was emitting some sort of mysterious pure light... divine light.

It should be said that during those years Revolver had grown into a beautiful youth. His frame became much more manly yet elaborately slender, and it made Spectre's cheeks hot as the boy suddenly realized the stunning similarity to those ancient Greek statues of young men whose every curve was akin to gods' blessing. Of course, those statues lacked clothing and that's why their beauty was so exposed to please an observant's eye, but somehow Spectre was sure that, if anything, Revolver-sama wouldn't lose to those pieces of white marble.

Revolver leaned down to look at the monitor, his shoulder brushed past Spectre's own as he was saying something. The younger boy was replying, but his own brain couldn't register what exactly the words from either side were as they drowned in the deafening drumming of his rabid heartbeat. Sudden tachycardia was so intense that Spectre feared his heart was about to jump out of his chest... jump out and land right onto Revolver's palm.

Something was definitely strange, as if some enchantment, threads of sweet flower-scented air fluttering around Revolver weaved magic that caught Spectre's mind hostage and fixated his gaze solely on the older boy's lips.

 _Lips that seemed so soft and nice to touch_...

"...Hey?"

Spectre's heart kept beating loudly but then came to an abrupt halt as familiar face turned to him, incredibly soft steel blue eyes met wide light blue and suddenly... suddenly Spectre felt as if he had never seen this face, those eyes before.

Invisible arrow, or as it felt rather like a bullet, pierced through the boy's fragile heart, and Spectre found himself drowning, melting in this steel.

"Wow, what's wrong?"

Voice that was unmistakably familiar sounded so smoky that Spectre felt a _bizarre_ heat awakening in the lower region of his body.

"My God," worry was dancing akin to fireflies in Revolver's eyes as he leaned closer to Spectre's face, not even realizing that he himself was like the God gazing down at the boy. "Your face is all red! Are you sick?"

Spectre wasn't sure what to say, the probability of "yes" answer was horrifically high, but...

"You're hot too!" Revolver's pretty features contorted in grimace of disapproval as his forehead met Spectre's and the softness of his fluffy hair brushing against the younger boy's skin was simply too much to handle. "Geez, I told you constant fatigue was gonna influence your immunity!"

"N-no, it's, uh..."

Even though Spectre could one hundred percent affirm it wasn't a common cold or flu or something, but the only thing he could force out of himself was this pitiful bleating.

"What's wrong?" Revolver was now blatantly concerned. "Why you're... ogling so? Is there something with my face?"

Spectre once again was unable to give him a satisfying answer. Like, he couldn't just go and blurt out that he felt strangely addicted to his face out of the blue, could he?

"I'm fine," he lied, looking into his master's eyes. "I'm just... really tired, that's all."

Revolver gave him a "oh-not-this-again" sigh and for a thousandth time went on with his lecture about importance of keeping oneself healthy.

...Which was outrageously hypocritical as the leader of Hanoi often seriously failed at this subject himself.

But, even more outrageously, Spectre was no longer able to call him out on that as all he could think of was this strange "sickness" of his.

That was one of many cases of so-called "day phase", but, and that was making the boy feel weirder than ever before in his life, there was also extremely peculiar "night phase"...

About that Spectre decided to consult with Kyoko-san. But whom the boy came across instead were only Aso-san and that other eccentric man who even in reality preferred to be called Dr. Genome. 

"Kyoko-san hasn't returned from her work yet," the latter informed, taking a sip of his coffee. "She said she was going to be quite busy tonight."

"Oh..." Spectre looked visibly down. 

"Did you need her for something?" Aso chewed his doughnut.

"Well... She is a doctor and I thought I could... I thought she could help me..."

The boy's tight, wobbly voice made Aso's fatherly instinct go off in alarm as he put aside his snack and furrowed his brows.

"What is it? Are you not feeling well? Is something bothering you?"

Nervous, Spectre pressed his lips tightly, fidgeting on one spot as he crossed his arms, basically embraced himself, a long-forgotten gesture from his lonesome toddlerhood.

Aso-san was always the man whom Revolver trusted very much, considered him his father, older brother figure. Aso-san was the person whom one would naturally trust, who would always try to find solution to any problem and do it as delicately as possible.

Well, perhaps Spectre could tell _that_ to him rather than Kyoko who despite being a doctor was still a woman, and talking to women about _that_ was kinda...

"Um, Aso-san? This is embarrassing, but there is something I want to tell you..."

And he laid out everything. About how in the middle of a night he would wake up because of strange heat and tension coiling in his groin area, how his entire body would become unbearably hot and his heart rate would dangerously increase, how he would feel like his hand would go out of his control and slip into his underwear just to find certain something literally burning, tingling and hard poking out, creating a visible bulge in his boxers. And the only way to calm this hardness down was to touch it, rub it thoroughly until his head would go blank and that thing would shoot out some white sticky stuff. And sometimes it would simply happen during Spectre's deep slumber for when he woke up every time he would find the said stuff staining his bed sheets.

As Spectre was talking he cautiously watched every single change in Aso's face, flustering internally whenever the man's cheeks would grow redder and he would cough, obviously trying to keep his face as straight as possible.

"What an interesting topic for a lunchtime!" it was Genome who flashed a big Cheshire-like smile after the boy finished his "confession".

"Genome!" Aso gave him a quick glare and then smiled cheerfully at Spectre. "There is nothing for you to be scared of or ashamed about. It simply means you're growing into a healthy young man."

"You mean... it's normal?" confused, Spectre tilted his head.

"Absolutely!" Genome chuckled. "It's called puberty and both men and women go through it. It's the most natural thing in the world."

"Um..." the boy lowered his eyes and gripped onto his knees as one thought was particularly nagging at the back of his mind.

"It's completely normal," Aso gave him a comforting smile. "It's normal for your age to feel new ways of attraction towards girls."

 _Girls_.

The very sound of it made Spectre involuntary twitch.

"Oh Aso," Genome suddenly laughed. "Why being so short-sighted in our time and age? Are you sure that our boy likes _girls_?"

This statement as well as the piercing gaze of foxy eyes sent Spectre's so vulnerable at the moment soul in a state of silent panic.

 _"How is that possible?!_ " something was hysterically crying in the boy's very core.

He never mentioned any names throughout his story...

"Listen, son," the man smirked down at him, orange soul mirrors met light blue and were adamant to engrave something onto them."I just want you to remember: boys like boys like girls do and boys like both girls and boys. Different orientation _is_ a thing no matter what anyone says. Get it?"

This _get it_ sounded as easy as the answer to whether reincarnation is not actually a religious myth but a real thing.

Put it simply, it was complicated.

"Genome," Aso frowned at the man. "Please, this is too much of info, at least for now."

"I just," he shrugged, emptying his cup, "don't want the boy's head being plagued by unnecessary guilt for whomever he has fun with in his "wet" dreams."

Spectre swallowed down his nervousness that was like a dry cloth ball stuck in his throat.

He sure felt himself to be an opened book for a moment.

Even though those dreams ended up "dirty" by his awakening, he never felt happier as he was dreaming.

Those gentle hands stroking his cheeks, wiping away radiant blue tears, those very same hands that caressed his sides, making him giggle at the ticklish but pleasant feeling. Those soft lips touching his skin akin to rose petals, those lips that traveled from his cheeks and down onto his belly, kissing, making him feel safe. Those words flowing into his ears and were sweeter than honey, words that kept him warm even if the scenery around was covered with snow and ice. Those eyes filled with adoration and heaven's light, eyes that looked at him as if he was the prettiest flower in the garden. That beautiful, beautiful smile meant for him and him only.

Yes, and Spectre was actually allowed to do the same.

Caress. Stroke.

Touch. Kiss.

Whisper. Giggle.

Be honest and say to the one who held him tight and close...

Now that was a huge problem.

No matter how Spectre tried he couldn't remember what was he saying, practically screaming to the person in whose arms he found an entire world.

And tears were bubbling in his tingling eyes as he realized he couldn't hear, couldn't read what exactly those beautiful lips were murmuring to him in reply.

 _Revolver was so close and yet so far within his dreams_...

~~~

Incredible deja vu occurred on the day of their seventh anniversary.

"Wow, look, it's raining outside," Revolver smiled as he was sitting in a comfy armchair and drinking sweet-scented tea served by Spectre. "Just like back then."

"Ah, indeed, sir..."

To Spectre it really seemed as if an eon had passed, no less.

But his biggest accomplishment, in his opinion, was the fact that over the course of the past year he managed to deal with outright symptoms of his "sickness". Distracting himself with house duties, studying and further improvement of his "not-exactly-legal" skills made a miracle and thus prevented him from blatantly blacking out as soon as Revolver's gaze would flicker towards him.

In other words, his "day phase" cut down to just uncontrollable heart drumming and occasional pink shade on his cheeks. As for the "night phase" though... well, Spectre would prefer keep it to himself, but it must be noted that this one only grew much, _much_ more fun and intense as the images inside his overheated head gained more and more exhilarating and, at times, quite salacious details...

"I must apologize," suddenly, Revolver's mood visibly changed as his face turned as gloomy as the sky.

"What is it, sir?" Spectre's heart skipped a beat when those eyes filled with sincere guilt looked at him sadly.

 _Something about that look made Spectre feel blue as well_.

"The duty of erasing every single one of my log records has been entirely on your shoulders for the past ten months," Revolver answered, his gaze shifted towards the tray with fruit cupcakes and home-made biscuits. "Your current routine doesn't leave you a second to look up and take a break."

"Aah, that's what you mean? But, uh..."

This topic was as old as eternity, but the older Spectre grew the more harshly it would dug its claws into his very core, the more unrest would befall onto his mind.

So he just _had to_ touch this one yet again.

"Well, I don't think this is enough."

"Hmm?"

Spectre felt himself internally trembling under his master's intent look, but he decided not to back down.

"The work I'm doing does not require me being logged in, but... I believe there would be much more use of me actually fighting on the frontline."

Revolver's chest slowly rose up according to the depth of breath he took, his eyes rolled back, prematurely and eloquently telling Spectre how his suggestion was taken.

"Do you know what that "frontline" means in our case?" his tone was as calm as it could be, and yet there was an echo resembling a distant thunder.

"I do," Spectre nodded, trying to maintain his cool. "The Knights of Hanoi is..."

"The Knights of Hanoi," Revolver brushed his thumb across the red triangle mark on his right hand, "is the biggest hacker group within network, basically cyber terrorists and its leader, Revolver, is a criminal of a grand scale."

None of this was an exaggeration as the Knights of Hanoi despite their true intentions still got the notorious glory.

"It cannot be helped," Spectre didn't dare to look away as he had to convince his master that he understood his point. "If this is the only way to achieve your goal..."

"This is a dark path I take," Revolver's hard look was almost burning right through him.

"I'm not afraid of darkness if I get to hold your hand."

" _War_ is not about holding hands, you silly brat."

"I know, nevertheless..."

A deep weary sigh cut him off, light blue eyes grew a bit wider out of surprise as Revolver beckoned their owner to come closer, but he obediently complied as he got up from his own chair and walked up to his master.

As soon as he did a gasp of shock ripped out of his throat as Revolver roughly grabbed his arm and yanked him down, making him land his butt directly onto master's lap.

"S-sir?!" Spectre's bug-like eyes blinked, but a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders and a big palm gently pressed his head closer to a broad chest.

" _Shhh_ ," Revolver's hand was lovingly stroking alabaster hair. "No need to be nervous. How long has it been since we cuddled like this?"

Listening to the heart beating right next to his ear, rosy-cheeked Spectre timidly laid his own palm across it.

"We used to do so many things together?" Revolver chuckled sadly. "Remember? We would bathe together, sleep in one bed in each other's arms... Where did that all go?"

Spectre didn't answer, he only reminded himself in his thoughts that bed and bath were now the most embarrassing episodes of his daily schedule, the ones where voluptuous feelings were swallowing him whole as they stained his sheets over and over again, and not even a cold shower could soothe the tingling heat in _that_ area of his body nor it could wash away filthy thoughts that were scourging his head in sweet delirium.

No, Spectre _did not_ want Revolver to witness him in such an awkward state of mind and body.

"I guess childhood innocence is bound to die sooner or later," Revolver smiled bitterly, causing the younger boy to shudder internally. "And speaking of this... Just _why_ do you strive to become a Knight of Hanoi so much?"

This time Spectre twitched in reality as his hand tightly gripped onto his master's shirt.

"You must consider," Revolver kept talking while his hand never stopped caressing the boy's head, "you already have a bad record by constantly aiding me with erasing my traces from the network. If SOL was to find out you were helping me, you would be thrown in jail, in worst case scenario you might end up like father... Are you sure you're okay with this? To give up everything to protect someone like me? To sacrifice your future, your happiness, even your very life just so that you could be by my side? Hellfire is my destiny, if you dare to jump after me, you'll burn like a piece of wood. You... I have already got plenty of vain mooks to fill in for this role, I've got those people who desperately want to repent for their sins helping me. But you..."

"I'm not scared," Spectre shook his head, nestling in his master's arms. "As long as I'm with you, I'm not scared of anything. My future, my happiness? I was only able to gain that when you reached your hand towards me all those years ago. I cannot imagine what my life could have been if you didn't appear back then. I'm... I'm not even sure whether I would have been able to make it this far. I feel like without you in my life I would have whithered away, like a flower without the sun... That's why I want to do the same for you. I want to be helpful. I want to protect you. I want to be your knight in white. I..."

"Say."

Every sound in the universe came to complete hush, even the noise of heavy shower banging at the window glass drowned into this soft but firm _say_.

Even Spectre's heart stopped when steel blue eyes melted into his and...

"Do you... love me?"

Like that powerful gust of wind crashed into the glass, almost shattering it, the same thing happened with Spectre's entire being.

" _L-love..?_ " a distant echo in his heat-hazed mind.

But considering how were Revolver's eyes holding him chained down, how clearly were they reflecting his shrinked self, how were they piercing right through — there was only one option.

"I..." he licked his awfully dry lips, closing his eyes.

In the deepest darkness of his consciousness there was a pure white angel embraced by light. The God whose attire was weaved from rays of sun, who had this gentle aura, sweet-scented air fluttering around and captivating, welcoming to come closer, to touch. This deity was smiling at Spectre, _lovingly so_ , and reaching to accept him into embrace. Spectre, foolish and blinded by radiating light, beamed with a smile of his own, soul singing with fanatical delight as their fingertips were about to connect...

" _Ugly monster!_ " a chorus of thousand distantly familiar and not really voices.

Voices made Spectre fall down onto his knees, sink them into the liquid, gooey darkness underneath.

" _What a creepy kid..._ " voices of adults that would smile to his face but gossip should he turn his back.

An invisible noose squeezed, dug into Spectre's thin neck as he, breathless, looked at his trembling hands... black with sticky mud trickling down between his crooked fingers.

" _Garbage_ ," a woman's cold, empty voice, unfamiliar, but the boy could guess whom he belonged to. " _I wish you would have died back in my womb._ "

His vision turned blurry, the deity's silhoutte grew unrecognizable behind the thick veil of radiant blue water that rolled down pallid cheeks.

 _To think that he almost touched this epitome of light and beauty with these filthy hands_...

Spectre was about to puke.

"I'm sorry..!"

Covering his mouth, he broke out of Revolver's embrace and darted out of the room.

Running away as far as his legs could take him, Spectre stumbled and fell down onto his knees on the Stardust Road. Rain was as sharp as arrows of Heaven's justice as it struck the weeping figure, shriveled and pathetic.

"I'm sorry..."

Faint-hearted whisper adressed to the fleeting luminous afterimage standing right there, in front of him.

"I love, I love you, so much," Spectre confessed, looking up, into painfully dear eyes. "But..."

But this _but_ dispelled the reflection of beloved into thousand petals of light.

" _But how can I possibly offer you something as ugly and dirty as my heart..?_ "

~~~

Their eighth anniversary came quicker now that Spectre had much, much more duties than before as he had a new role to accommodate himself to.

His long-time wish was granted: as officially as it could be in their case Spectre became the Knights of Hanoi's second-in-command, Revolver's assistant and his right-hand man. Though a rather weird execution of his second commander's part it was as almost no one in Hanoi, except the higher-ups, knew how he even looked like... which was exceptionally funny since his VR avatar was a carbon copy of his IRL looks.

It didn't matter that much anyway as Spectre (yes, that did become his alias like he wanted) was just there, an invisible shadow, an echo of Revolver-sama's voice appearing only when the master needed him and vanishing into thin air afterwards, working behind curtains for the sake of Hanoi's noble intentions. Spectre was never used as cannon fodder, never needlessly tossed in the flames of the battlefield. Revolver strictly prohibited him from being seen by anyone, probably because he didn't wear a mask? Was that the reason? Or maybe..?

No, Spectre preferred not to get distracted by different "maybe"s and such. He chose to dive into his double life fully by serving Revolver-sama in both reality and virtuality.

 _That way_ , he thought, _his heart would hurt a little less_.

And there was pain, nagging and prolonging.

 _Ever since one particular rainy day_.

Ever since that day it seemed that Revolver had been outrightly avoiding Spectre, and deep inside the latter suspected why... but he chose to play elephant in the room and not touch it at any cost. And, thus, days turned into a never-ending game of hide-and-seek with Revolver, despite hating LINK VRAINS, spending there most of his time and Spectre being the "housewife" in between of his Hanoi duties, but actually worrying more about trays with untouched food that were just there, in front of master's locked door.

Revolver never logged out before the time Spectre would fall asleep and if he did, he would rather stay in silent mourning by his father's bedside rather than chat with the younger boy, like in good old times.

And Spectre was always there, looking through the tiny crack in the door but seeing only his master's back.

And sharp claws of loneliness dug into his very soul, making it bleed...

Large empty mansion was now haunted by memories, invisible giggling phantoms that approached Spectre whenever he went.

There, the spacious place in living-room, two ghostly boys were laughing as the older one attempted to teach the younger how to dance waltz.

There, the sunlit kitchen, the same ghostly boys, the older one clinged onto, wrapped his arms around the younger's waist as the latter tried to cook dinner.

There, the bedroom bathed in moonlight, the older teen was sitting on bed and humming some sweet tune to the younger boy brushing the beautiful white hair, desperately trying to untangle moobeams.

Those ghosts of the past followed Spectre everywhere, caught up to his every step, but should he look back — they would disperse, leaving behind nothing but ghostly giggles and bitter blue tears on pale cheeks.

" _As it is now, we can never go back... to those days_ ," Spectre would wipe them before logging in.

The darkness of Hanoi's hideout, poor greenish illumination.

And he, even in virtual, devil-like disguise, Revolver was akin to a beam of heaven's light.

The leader of Hanoi was looking at some screens in front of him, apparently not noticing his assistant's arrival.

Something painfully thumped in Spectre's chest despite his digital form (too realistic, damn, Revolver-sama was right), but he quickly snapped out of it and bowed humbly.

"Revolver-sama."

The man gave him a _hmm_ in acknowledgment of his presense, but didn't turn around or even glanced back over his shoulder.

"Report," Spectre kept his voice as straight as a string, not even in pain because of having to face his master's back.

 _Not even in the slightest_...

Having finished his report, Spectre fully expected the usual emotional "You may go", but...

"Wait."

One short word perfectly synchronized with the sound of something rapidly stopping in the boy's chest.

Revolver still wasn't looking at him, but the softness of his voice caught Spectre completely off guard.

"Y-yes, sir?"

_How many eternities long ago was the last time he heard these gentle notes..?_

It was even more unimaginable as he definitely _never_ heard them from Revolver the Virtual.

"Do you remember," even not seeing his master's face Spectre somehow felt he was smiling, "that one time when shortly after father's death we ran away from the city? When we ended up in that one old village lost among the woods in the mountains?"

"Eh?"

Spectre blinked out of surprise at the unexpected question, but then all of a sudden an imaginary sweet scent of trees and wild flowers appeared out of nowhere, and he remembered those dispersed rays of summer sun. The shimmering sunlight that was leaking through the branches above and gently caressing the young boys' faces as they snuggled in the pile of fresh hay packed in the carriage of some grandpa who agreed to give the kids a free ride.

"Ah... Of course I remember, Revolver-sama," Spectre smiled blissfully as the memory of mischievous sunbeams dancing all over his young master's angelic face could not disappear that easily.

"It was a pure madness," Hanoi's leader kept talking in that "smiling" tone. "For us, two brats, just abandon everything and flee without telling anyone."

"Indeed it was," Spectre chuckled. "Moreover, that miserable sum of money we had, 3620 yen together, plus some clothes..."

"That grandpa took us to the village he lived in and let us stay at his house."

"I still remember the taste of his wife's, granny's delicious home-baked bread and milk, real milk."

"Heh, and I cannot forget your face when you saw a cow for the first time, a living and breathing one and not drawn on pictures."

"Haha, your expression was identical to mine. After all, we never had a chance to experience seeing them in the city."

"We even got to pet it, it was so thrilling. Hm, what was the cow's name by the way?"

"It was Ribbon. I'm not sure why but somehow I remembered it well."

"Hm," Revolver smirked. "But the biggest twist came when our two days escape abruptly ended. We would have never suspected that those granpa and granny would suddenly turn out to be Fau... Aso-san's grandparents?"

"True..." Spectre smiled a bit nervously. "Who would have thought our planet was _that_ small? And the timing of him deciding to visit them was so extremely perfect?"

"Yeah, and when we got back home we got a perfect opportunity to learn how hard can be Vyr... Kyoko-san's fist on our heads."

"Ha, that we did," Hanoi's second-in-command reflexively rubbed the back of his head at the memory. "My bump had a hard time getting better."

It was so sudden, but the way the two higher-ups of the Knights of Hanoi got to chat and reminiscence this casually without logging out made Spectre feel a bit happier than usual in a long time, but then Revolver's abrupt change in voice toned down the smile on his aide's face.

"I'm not gonna run away. Never again," the voice was stern, but with treacherous notes of sadness to it. "I'm not a selfish kid anymore."

"Sir..." Spectre could do nothing but keep staring at the back of his leader's head, and yet he spode as softly as he could to soothe whatever worries his master had. "Of course you are not. And... You were never selfish to begin with."

"Is that what you believe in?" even without looking in his subordinate's direction Revolver managed to send shivers down his spine. "Then how come when I decided to throw away everything and run away, you went with me? Back then I actually had absolutely no idea where was I escaping too, I just grabbed your hand and pulled you along."

These questions was too hard for Spectre to answer from get-go, and as if that wasn't enough Revolver added more.

"There is also a moment etched in my memory that glows so vibrantly... yes, like those flowers you picked to make me that crown."

Spectre's consciousness burst into sunlight.

He remembered that sweet-scented day in the glade in the woods.

"You always said..." Revolver's voice grew indescribably tense. "...that you hated to pluck flowers because it seemed like a murder to you, and yet you, for me..."

" _Ah... So this is what is all about?_ " Spectre figured it out, or at least he thought so?

"Well," despite not seeing his master's face he smiled a clumsy but reassuring smile, "it's not like you pulled me by force. I remember it was me who held your hand and said "Let's run away together?" or something like that."

" _Yes, It was "Let's run away together?", there is no way I would forget that._ "

"Even back then I had already decided I would follow Revolver-sama to the ends of the earth."

" _Ascend into Heaven or fall into the depth of Hell, it didn't matter._ "

"Before I knew you I never had a chance to experience such exciting adventures."

" _I was so miserable and lonely..._ "

"I wouldn't trade a second I spent with you for anything else in the world because you always, always made me so happy."

" _I'm really afraid of that loneliness... surging with sadness... and pain..!_ "

"You're so special to me..."

" _I'll never stop believing you are my guardian angel in flesh._ "

"I live to serve you."

" _Because you are my everything._ "

"I would sacrifice everything I have..."

" _And murder not only flowers just to make you contented._ "

"For Revolver-sama's sake and for everything he believes in I, Spectre..."

" _I'm giving you my very soul._ "

"I'm your loyal Knight and from the bottom of my heart I..."

" _ **Shush, you unworthy!**_ "

Suddenly, a hissing voice that was not the voice of Spectre's thoughts made his pressed tightly together as if smeared with glue, not letting out the most important part, let alone form it inside his head.

"...I see," Revolver spoke after an eternity of tense hush, making Spectre agonize inside over the terrible realization that half of the things he said to him were only voiced by his thoughts. "If you've said everything you wanted, you may go."

"I..."

" ** _No!_** "

"Yes, Revolver-sama," Spectre bowed humbly with his hand across his painfully pounding heart.

And only as he disappeared from virtuality, the leader of Hanoi finally looked back, but saw only his own shadow.

"But," Revolver's lips slightly parted, whisper was addressed to nothingness, "you don't know how happy I was when you said you'd run away with me... and how I am now just because you're here, with me."

On the other side of existence, in the real world, Spectre wearily leaned against the wall and, as his feeble knees failed him, slid down to the floor. 

"I'm sorry," his trembling lips whispered to emptiness. "I'm really sorry..."

His heart was crumbling, falling apart at its seams.

"I know it now for sure, Revolver-sama... From the bottom of my heart I love... I'm so much in love with you, but... but..."

 _But another pointless but was akin to a new nail in the coffin where his feelings were buried_.

~~~

When their ninth anniversary was just around the corner Spectre came to realize one important thing about himself.

 _He was going insane_.

He literally was, he wasn't going overboard with this.

Could a perfectly sane person see the ghosts of their past practically everywhere, hear them whispering, giggling as if they were truly there, in front of the on-looker's own eyes?

Could a perfectly sane person swear that there really was an incubus in angelic disguise seducing them every night, that the tempter's sweet touches, things that were too indecent to describe were simply a delirium, hallucinations?

Could a perfectly sane person see signs of their beloved's affection in their almost every gesture, every look?

Could a perfectly sane person believe... Spectre of Hanoi was actually, truly worthy to be loved..?

Nah, none of these fell under the description of a "sane" person.

So obviously Spectre couldn't be one.

He desperately, _seriously_ desperately tried not to think much about it as he continued to serve his leader.

His dear master.

His guardian angel.

His one and only God.

His beacon of light and hope.

His oasis in the middle of a desert.

His savior, the one who pulled him out of the darkness of the canyon he was dying in.

His everything, his Alpha and Omega, the beginning and end of his personal universe.

His... Revolver-sama.

Just Revolver-sama.

Nothing else mattered.

No one else mattered.

Recently they had finally come across that cursed IGNIS Revolver had been searching for, what it seemed like, ages.

And of course Spectre was there to assist his master, in both reality and virtuality.

" _Revolver-sama‘s noble goals above all... Revolver-sama's noble goals above all... Revolver-sama‘s noble..._ "

It might have seemed to any sane person that Spectre himself as if turned into a stupid AI with only one single program to follow.

Which, of course wasn't true. Spectre couldn't possible be an AI.

...Because Revolver-sama hated AIs, right?

And less than anything in the world Spectre wanted to be hated by _that one_ person in his life.

So in order to distract himself from heart-wrenching thoughts Hanoi's second commander kept on conducting his duties as flawlessly as possible.

And it was totally okay that Spectre only had his master's back to face, he had become used to it so perfectly by now.

"Revolver-sama," he began his usual, mechanical routine. "Report."

He didn't even memorize what the content of that report was as it was something so trivial, so mechanical to him already.

"...Playmaker doesn't seem to intend letting us having that AI to ourselves."

And there there was.

Aside from his "sickness"s usual symptoms there had recently appeared one more, probably the worst of all Spectre had experienced before, even worse than the one that kept urging him to go to bed every night with an article of Revolver-sama's clothing.

Playmaker.

Playmaker, Playmaker...

_Playmaker, Playmaker, Playmaker..!!_

Revolver-sama said this name twenty-sixth time this week.

Spectre knew for sure, Spectre counted.

And that was making Spectre's mind burn in flames of Hell.

Whenever he saw those cat-like poisonous emerald eyes...

 _Spectre was honestly unable to remember the last time when he wanted to scratch out somebody's eyes that much_.

"Don't worry, Revolver-sama," he replied as automatically as he could while trying to hold his inner storm behind a thousand locks.

 _Though sometimes it really felt that one thousand wasn't enough_...

"I see," Revolver's usual unemotional reply, usual back turned to face Spectre.

But then... a sudden breach of the usual algorithm.

Just as Hanoi's second-in-command was waiting for the usual "You may go" there was an abnormal pause and...

" **You.** "

It felt apart.

The usual algorithm.

Disrupted.

Destroyed.

Demolished.

Perfect harmony was shattered by Spectre's cacophonic gasp as his back roughly hit against the wall with dim greenish glimmering lights on it.

The boy hissed through clenched teeth, forgetting he was in virtuality at the moment... but he never got a chance to process it properly later on as his eyes shot wide open, another gasp hitched in his lungs and he felt...

Helpless.

Exposed.

Naked.

Yes, even with his clothing files on basically naked underneath this sharp and not much human-like glare of the Knight of Hanoi's leader.

Yes, that was it.

 _Glare_.

Something that was definitely a _bad_ news on Revolver's face.

...Though _what_ kind of a news was Revolver's grasp pinning Spectre's arms against the wall, his knee bluntly pressed between Spectre's legs..?

"You coward."

And these harsh words coming in dissonance with this unnaturally big, sly smirk spread across his master's lips, the fact that his mask was suddenly gone and Spectre could see himself perfectly clear in his golden eyes as they were getting closer?

Closer and closer... Spectre felt a stroke of dizziness as oxygen was rapidly burning away and those approaching half-parted lips were about to... about to... maybe..?

Spectre stopped thinking, his thoughts simply melted under the sweet heat's pressure.

Spectre closed his own eyes and prepared to accept his literally fire-breathing but soft fate.

" **I knew it.** "

These words took away the hope as unexpectedly as Revolver took his lips away from his.

"I'm sorry," he said in his usual calm and collected voice, turning away from his subordinate. "I didn't mean forcing it onto you, but... at least now I know _for sure_ what I have always suspected."

 _These words_.

These words as if flipped Spectre into open air, made him spin in nauseating whirlwind and then face-planted him directly on the concrete ground.

These words clawed at his very core, leached into his brain and sucked out the last drops of his body heat, making him freeze to half-death.

These words...

" _Revolver-sama!_ "

Spectre felt like crying but instead, making a shaky step in his master's direction...

" _Revolver-sama!_ "

A hand reached out towards the angel in devil's guise...

" _Please... don't! I don't like seeing your back..!_ "

Or rather Spectre _hated_ it as it as if was saying "I don't know you".

" _That's right! Please, please, I beg you! Turn around, look at me! Smile like you used to!! Revolver-sama, I... I..!_ "

Long white fingers gently brushed across Hanoi leader's tan cheek, inevitably capturing his attention.

"Spec..?" Revolver slowly turned his head, but...

The remaining part of the name disappeared as the gap was firmly closed.

 _As the universe faded between a pair of hungry lips melting into each other_.

As if paralytic poison affected each and every of Spectre's senses, he felt himself floating in gravity-less space with only his master to hold onto, so he tightly grabbed, wrapped his arms around his neck. Revolver happily played the pillar's part, pulling the desperate boy even closer by his waist as he drank the sweet poison from his lips. Twenty fingers simultaneously tangled into alabaster and dark crimson hair respectively, desperate moans for a brief moment reemerged between the heated epicentre of passion before vanishing again, into excited moist noises of two tongues finally meeting each other.

And there was no, absolutely _no_ qualm that someone, anybody could have logged into the area and see what were the Knights of Hanoi's leader and his right-hand man doing.

But then as they pulled away with their tongues still linked by fragile strings of saliva the enchantment fell apart immediately, and, even if its effect kept lingering on Spectre's red cheeks, the said boy couldn't help violently shuddering and clumsily stumbling back like he did as a young boy frightened of something.

"Revolver-sama..!" he gasped helplessly as the man's firm grasp at his wrist prevented him from promptly logging out.

"Don't you dare!" came a low growl in response. "Don't you dare running away from me... yet again!"

 _For a split second Spectre could have sworn he heard the sound of rain falling_.

"Ah, sir..." Hanoi's second commander felt utterly petrified when his leader hugged onto him so desperately, like a drowning man onto a branch.

"Forgive me..." a frantic whisper. "It must have been too early to ask _that_ of you back then, and now I'm getting my punishment by getting it not in the way I wanted it... Heh, it's my freaking avatar who got to kiss you first, this virtual faker, not the real me..! But I guess it's a suitable punishment for an incorrigible egotist..."

Light blue eyes fluttered wide open as thousands of sepia-colored pictures flashed one by one.

 _One picture more enjoyable than other_...

"Ah, it's nothing, sir, really..." Spectre smiled, holding his master tightly. "You're the most wonderful person in the world, and I..."

Suddenly, the old rusty chain constricting his neck broke into pieces, letting him to take a deep breath and...

"And I love you in any shape and form," after so many years Spectre finally breathed out freely and with a radiant smile beaming on his pallid face. "I love you, Revolver-sama! I always did and I always will!"

Now it was Revolver's eyes turn to round.

"You're..."

He couldn't help but see large pure white wings spread behind his... _lover's_ back.

"... _Angel_ ," he muttered, enchanted by their gentle glow.

"Oh no," Spectre chuckled. "You are the angel here, you have always been... in my eyes."

"If you really think so," Revolver gave him a bitter smile, "then I'm afraid you're a super positive masochist... and I hate to admit, but I strongly, tremendously love you for this."

"I see nothing bad in slight dom/sub undertones to relationships," Spectre laughed.

"Um..." his master's look turned a bit dumbfounded. "You do realize you just blurted out something kinky, silly?"

"I do," the boy grinned radiantly with tears sparkling in his eyes as he took his leader's hand and kissed glowed fingers. "I'm just happy I'm actually worthy of your attention, your love!"

"Worthy..?"

And the lightning of truth struck Revolver at the very same moment, a bright flash of purifying snow white light revealed the mystery behind the ever-miserable but pretending to be smiling light blue eyes. Light blue eyes that always seemed to want to say something, but...

" _So that wasn't lack of courage after all..!_ " Revolver realized and his heart stopped.

"You fool..!!" his face contorted in a grimace of pain as he grabbed Spectre's shoulders and pulled him in another embrace. "You've always been... From the very start I... cherished and adored you above all!"

Crystal clear, not radiant blue tears rolled down the boy's smiling face as he gripped onto his beloved's back.

"I'm so happy, Revolver-sama," he sniffled, heavens reflected in his blue eyes. "For thanks to you and only you there is the sweet spring blooming in my heart."

"...But now that you're walking down this dark path with me there might be no next spring for you."

"But we are walking it together, right? You needed me after all, and that's why you made me your Knight?"

"...That was your desire, so..."

"Revolver-sama cares for my happiness," Spectre couldn't hold back more of joyous tears. "And that is why it is the greatest honor for me to dedicate my life to you."

"And yet I..." the leader of Hanoi pulled away for a moment, but was shushed by his aide's finger softly pressed to his lips.

"I love you, sir. But I have one favor to ask?"

"What is it?" confused, Revolver blinked as Spectre snuggled up to his chest.

"Please... At least as long as I'm still here, have your eyes on me only... okay?"

Taken aback for a second by such a weird, honestly weird request, Revolver smiled one of his most beautiful smiles and wrapped his arms around the boy, kissing his forehead as softly but as lovingly as possible.

"I love you, Spectre. Not only my eyes, my very heart has always been in your delicate, lovely hands."

"Revolver-sama..." 

Despite the lack of emotional diversity in these non-human eyes Spectre managed to look further and see the warmth radiating from the real world. 

Yes, these feelings were nothing but _real_.

" _Ah... How could I have even thought some fleeting images of a thieving cat's green eyes would undo nine... no, ten anniversaries of me and him?_"

"I'll love you for all the little time we have left," Revolver's face turned gloomier as his common sense conveniently reminded him about the inevitableness of their "glorious" fate after their plan would be carried out successfuly.

"It's okay, sir," Spectre smiled the smile that made his face more beautiful than ever before as leaned in, thirsty for another kiss. "That little time is more than enough. Because we are a couple now?"

"That we are," Revolver planted an incredibly bittersweet kiss on those needy lips.

" _That's really okay,_ " the last bit of a thought before Spectre fully melted into the pleasure as he was softly swept off his feet. " _I would trade my entire life for a single second if I get to share with you one pair of wings for two... my angel._ "

There were no more wishes for Spectre.

 _With this one alone he could die peacefully_.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. I absolutely love the idea of them two growing up together and, probably, living under one roof. So adorable it is. I really need to know more about their past together *ugly sobbing*


End file.
